


this world is not meant for you

by quantumducky



Category: Hidden Block (Video Blogging RPF), Televoid - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Televoid, Temporary Character Death, its all very self indulgent tbh, schrodingers caddimoose, the first chapter is literally just suffering, the second has... the vaguest possible plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumducky/pseuds/quantumducky
Summary: humans can't live in the void, no matter what the void might tell you





	1. unstable

**Author's Note:**

> #saveian2k17

Ian fucked up.  He fucked up so bad.  In his defense, though, who could have predicted the void finding a way to _bring him back from the dead_ just to keep its awful little game with him going?

But it did, and now things are worse than ever in pretty much every possible way.  At least before he was _just_ dying slowly.  Now, he can already feel that his body will give out again before too long, and it doesn’t even come with the promise of being done with all this.  The thing is, time may have been rewound for him, but as far as he can tell the damage that killed him is still very much there.  He’s still unstable, and he’s only getting worse.

Of course, when it comes to Ian’s shitty physical condition, a little internal bleeding is just the tip of the iceberg.  Clichés aside, it turns out he _can’t_ sleep when he’s dead, because he came back just as tired as before, possibly even worse.  He can’t remember the last time he was allowed to sleep.  Maybe never.  All he can do is massage his aching eyes and head while slumped over in his chair- even lying awake on the floor seems to be frowned on now.  If he were inclined to look on the bright side, which he is not, the chair at least doesn’t sap every bit of warmth his body tries to produce quite as efficiently as the rest of the void.  Hypothermia is one of many things he should by all rights have died of a long time ago.

There’s also the almost total lack of food and water- popcorn _sort of_ counts, but still.  Given all that and the blood loss, no wonder he can’t stop shaking- at this point, can hardly get from one end to the other of his little “room” without nearly collapsing.

No, scratch that.  Right now, at this moment, he can’t even stand up- he tried a few minutes ago, and it didn’t go well.  He has no energy or desire to do anything but curl into a ball as well as he can while in a chair, hugging himself, and try to stay very still.  Maybe if he doesn’t move everything won’t hurt so much.

_Fuck_ , he’s dizzy.  Even with his eyes closed, completely motionless, he can feel the void spinning around him.  He opens his eyes a crack in hopes of orienting himself, even though that never works, and finds he can’t make them focus on anything anyway.  So much for being aware and alert.  At this rate, he won’t be doing so well at the _alive_ part soon either.  Maybe the void won’t want to expend all that energy to bring him back this time, knowing it isn’t going to last long before he collapses again.  Unlikely, but he needs _something_ to hope for, right?

It feels like he’s going to be sick.  He tries to uncurl just a little and get in a slightly less uncomfortable position, but gravity takes it from there and he ends up on the ground, slamming his head on a surface that honestly has no right to be solid enough to hurt him.  Yeah, there’s no way he’s getting up again of his own power.  He touches the back of his head, and blinks unsteadily at the blood now on his fingers.  Because he definitely has enough of _that_ to lose.  He turns on his side and waits to die.

* * *

 Ian wakes up.  Once again, he’s sitting upright in the chair.  He looks around.  He looks at himself.  He's alive and relatively functional again, for now.  He looks up to see a camera turned on and fights back tears.  It’s time to record.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after the last chapter i got yelled at to let him get saved. this is as shippy or platonic as you want it to be

Ian is dying again.  Okay, so he isn't _actively dying_ just yet, but he’s gone through this often enough by now to know it’s coming.  In the interest of not hurting himself any more than he already hurts, it’s probably time to move to sitting on the floor.  Not lying down, of course, because god forbid he try to get some rest while he’s killing time until he dies.  Just sitting upright, at least until he gets too tired to hold himself up.  He would say he’s already _at_ that point, but the void seems to disagree.

Anyway.  Time to get out of the chair.  He moves to get up, but his legs are a lot shakier than he thought and everything is _spinning_ more than he thought and he’s falling.  Stupid Ian, should have moved when he could still stand…

Someone catches him.  He’s too busy being shocked to right himself, so they lower him gently to the floor.  He forces himself not to keep leaning on them- even if they’re being helpful, he doubts anyone created by the void would ever be _that_ nice.  Anyway, the chair is right behind him.  It's maybe not the traditional use of a chair, but he can lean on it as long as he doesn’t accidentally push it away.  Technically-nonexistent floors don’t give much traction.

Once he’s in a position that leaves him enough energy to focus on things other than staying upright, he looks up at whoever just saved him from more bruises.  They don’t look like anyone the void has summoned before- most notably, they didn’t come from any of the shows he’s watched.  He blinks a few times and convinces his eyes to focus on the face of a dark-haired man he feels he should recognize.

“Ian?”  His voice is familiar, too, Ian just can’t seem to place it.  “Are you alright?”

Ian can’t stop himself from laughing bitterly.  “I’m _dying_ , what the fuck do you think?”  Will he get punished for that?  Nah, cameras aren’t rolling, he’ll get away with it.  Anyway, like he said, he’s already dying, so who cares?

This guy seems to care, actually.  He looks very worried.  “Thank god we found you when we did,”  he says, taking the hand Ian isn’t holding himself up with.

Ian gasps softly.  How the _fuck_ is he so _warm?_

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”  He pulls his hand away.  Ian grabs it without thinking and almost falls over in the process.

“No, don’t go, it’s- you’re good,” he says quickly.  Jeez, what is he thinking right now?  Probably that Ian is embarrassingly desperate for any kind of contact with another person.  Even a person he knows can’t possibly be real.  Which is _true,_ so he shouldn’t even be mad about it.  A few seconds later he remembers the man probably didn’t come here to hold his hand.  “Sorry, what did you want from me?  And, uh, if you don’t mind, who _are_ you?”

Now he looks even more worried than before.  “What do I _want_?  Don’t you recognize me, Ian?”

“I…”  He really is trying.  “You look familiar, I just… can’t remember…”

“It’s fine.  I know it’s been a while, but…” He sighs.  “Never mind, I’ll just introduce myself.  I’m Caddy.  My real name is James, but nobody calls me that.”  He looks at Ian hopefully, like maybe that will make him remember.

Ian nods.  “Okay.  Caddy.”

For whatever reason, he seems sad about Ian calling him the thing he literally just said to call him.  “We were… yeah, let’s go with friends.  Before you disappeared and ended up _here._ ”

“Oh,”  Ian says breathlessly.  ...Before he was here?  Yeah, Ian daydreams a lot about having had a life that wasn’t this hell, but it never seemed like something that actually _happened_ until just now.  He had a life outside the void.  He had _friends._

Because obviously the void couldn’t let him be happy for two seconds without fucking it up, he suddenly starts coughing.  Caddy lets go and gives him room to breathe, not that it helps.  By the time it stops, sitting up is officially cancelled.  Ian is crumpled on the floor, shivering.  At least he isn’t coughing up blood this time.  ...Which means he gets to die of pure exhaustion rather than internal bleeding.  A day or two longer of lying here waiting for it to end.  Yay.  At least it means he wont have to do anything for a while.

“Are you okay?”  Well, _that’s_ a stupid question, and one Ian already answered at that.  Still, it’s been a long time since anyone _cared_ whether he was okay, and it’s accompanied by the return of pressure and (more importantly) warmth on his hand.  He’s not sure if he can talk right now, so instead he squeezes back weakly.

Caddy sighs.  “Please just hold on a little longer…”

Ian can’t promise anything, honestly, but he squeezes his hand again.

It looks like Caddy wants to say something else, but thinks better of it.  He scoots closer and brushes Ian’s matted hair out of his eyes, hand lingering for a second on Ian’s face.  Ian looks up at him in surprise.

“Is something wrong?”  Caddy really ought to stop randomly touching him when he doesn’t know what hurts.

Ian shakes his head.  “You’re very warm,”  he says.  His voice is only shaking a little bit.

Caddy frowns.  “You’re very cold.  I think I can help with that.”

It’s too easy to scoop Ian up into his arms.  He shouldn’t be this light, should he?  Ian relaxes and stops shivering, leaning into his new human furnace, but now Caddy has something else to worry about.

“Ian… Have you been eating?”  he asks, stroking Ian’s back soothingly.  Given what little he knows of the void, he’s not sure he wants to know the answer, actually.

Ian blinks a few times like he’s struggling to remember.  “Twice,” he finally says.

“In the whole time you’ve been here?  Jesus.  How have you not died already?”

Ian laughs, even though it’s really not funny.  It’s a mistake.  Laughing hurts.  “I _have._  I don’t even know how many times.  I think I still have a couple days, but you should leave before it happens this time, unless you really want to sit here for however long it takes the void to revive me.  It brings me back every time somehow, even though I keep hoping…”  he trails off.  It sounds like he’s about to cry.  “Not even _dying_ can get me out of here.”

Caddy holds him closer.  “I’m not leaving you to die alone, Moose, I’m not that much of a dick.  I’ll stay with you.”

Ian blinks at him, confused.  “ _What_ did you just call me?”

He hesitates, looking sad.  “Nothing.  It was just…  Never mind.”

Ian is still lost, but not enough to waste energy worrying about it.  He lets it go.

“I’ll stop talking at you and let you rest.  No offense, but you look like you really need some sleep.”

“Yeah,”  Ian agrees.  “If only this stupid fucking place would _fucking let me.”_  He glitches out and spends the next thirty seconds clinging to Caddy’s shirt, struggling to breathe.  “Yeah, okay, I was asking for that,”  he says with difficulty.

“What the hell?”  Caddy is getting exponentially more worried about him every minute he spends here.

Ian takes a deep breath.  “Yeah, it does that to punish me sometimes.  Usually when I fuck up or get rebellious- trying to escape or get help, not playing along for the cameras like everything is fine, you know.  …Sometimes just for amusement, as far as I can tell.”  He gets another half-second of glitchiness for that little comment and falls silent.

Well, that explanation precludes the next thing Caddy was going to say.  Maybe telling Ian he’s here to (hopefully, if everything back in the real world goes as planned) get him out won’t go over so well with whatever sadistic force has been keeping him trapped.  All he can do is wait, try to make him feel a little better, and hope the plan he came here to carry out actually works.

“That’s fucked up,”  he eventually responds.

Ian shrugs.  “It’s not that bad,”  he says carefully.  That not-so-subtle reminder that the void is listening to everything he says seems to have made him withdraw into himself.  He’s tense as hell, even lapsing into the forced cheerfulness he puts on for videos.  “I mean, yeah, it can fuck me up pretty bad, but it only happens when I’ve done something to cause it.  So if I could just, if I, if I did everything right…”

“Stop.”  Caddy can’t listen to any more of this.  “You can’t be expected to do _everything_ right, what the fuck?”  He rubs Ian’s back, willing him to relax again to no avail.  He’d been making so much progress, damn it.  Ian is only going to wear himself out like this, and given the state he’s in, that could be dangerous.  “Whatever has been happening to you… it’s not your fault, okay?”

Ian nods, because it seems like the fastest way to make this conversation be over.  He was just trying to say what the void would want him to.  If Caddy keeps going on like that, _he’s_ going to piss it off and get hurt, and then Ian _will_ blame himself.  He leans his head on Caddy’s shoulder to avoid looking at him.  Not to mention the fact he’s starting to calm down and remember how fucking exhausted he is.  He thinks he might be shaking again, but he can’t make himself stop.

“You’re okay,”  Caddy tells him, even though it’s not remotely true.  “You’re going to be okay.”  That’s a bit more plausible.  “I’m here, just- stay with me, okay?  Just keep it together a little longer.  Please.”

Ian wonders what he means by that.  Probably that he doesn’t want to watch him die.  “Don’t worry,”  he says, muffled.  He intended to follow that up with a convincing reason not to worry, but his head is pounding and he’s too tired to think that much.

Suddenly, they’re surrounded by a warm yellow light.  Caddy holds him like he’s afraid of losing him.  A second later they’re somewhere else, sitting on something soft, and Caddy is talking excitedly- almost shouting- to a half-circle of people gathered around them.  “We did it!  We _actually did it,_ I can’t believe that actually worked!”  That’s great and all, whatever the hell he’s talking about, but he’s hurting Ian’s head.

“James, please,”  Ian mutters into his shoulder.  “Just… shut the fuck up.”  Then he passes out.

* * *

Ian wakes up and blinks a few times, looking around.  He’s in his own bed (holy shit) surrounded by his friends, who he can actually _remember (_ **_holy shit._ ** _)_  He’s been _sleeping_ for however long, which is almost as incredible to him.  He could probably just burst into tears right now, but he has a reputation to uphold, so he doesn’t.

"Hey, guys,”  he says, letting a smile spread across his face (not that he actually could have stopped it.)  “Miss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know its genuine quantumducky content if someone takes a nap at some point


End file.
